He hunches his shoulders. "Miss Hampton has taught me to be humble," says he. "I don't pretend to understand her, or to explain her. She is a brilliant and superior young person. She has, too, certain advanced ideas which are a bit startling to me. And yet, even when she's hurling Bernard Shaw or H. G. Wells at me she—she's fascinating. That quirky smile of hers, the quick changes of expression that flash into those big, china-blue eyes, the sudden lift of her fine chin,—how thoroughly alive she is, how well poised! So I—well, I want her, that's all. I—I want her!"
"Huh!" says I. "Suppose you happened to get her? What would you——"
"Heaven only knows!" says he. "The question seems rather, what would she do with me? Hence the probation."
"Is this going to be a long-distance tryout," says I, "with you reportin' for inspection every other Tuesday?"
He says it ain't. Miss Hampton's idea is to shelve the matrimony proposition and begin by seein' if they can qualify as friends. She shows him how they'd never really seen enough of each other to know if they had any common tastes.
"So I am to go with her to a few concerts, art exhibits, lectures, and so on," says he, "while she has consented to try a week-end yachting cruise with me. We start Saturday; that is, if I can make up a little party. But I don't just know whom to ask."
"Pardon me if I seem to hint," says I, "but what's the matter with brother-in-law Ferdie and Marjorie, with Vee and me thrown in for luck?"
"By Jove!" says he, brightenin' up. "Would you? And would Miss Vee?"
"Maybe we could stand it," says I.
"Done, then!" says he. "I'll 'phone Marjorie at once."